


Azhâru kurduê

by LostMyHeartToHim



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Excessive use of italics, M/M, Spoilers for BOTFA, seriously don't read if you haven't seen it or don't know what's gonna happen, seriously what did you expect?, this is me we're talking about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 16:09:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2818229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostMyHeartToHim/pseuds/LostMyHeartToHim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He was... My heart. My home. My One. He was my friend."</p><p>Just a drabble I wrote after seeing Botfa and finished bawling my eyes out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Azhâru kurduê

**Author's Note:**

> The dialogue is based purely on my memory so obliviously it's not entirely correct. I hope you can still enjoy it. I'm also not a native speaker and this is not beta'd, so come poke at me if you notice any mistakes. Also my apologies to anyone who follows I May Be Blind (But I Can Still Lead You Home) for not updating it in like almost a year. I'm very sorry, I had a massive writer's block and more things to do than I had time for. If anyone is still interested, let me know.

The eagles had arrived. The battle was over. Bilbo was so happy he could cry from joy.

 _Thorin. Where was Thorin?_ He peered over the boulder, frantically looking for a sign of his king. Finally he spotted him on the ice, slowly making his way over to the edge. He was ready to shout his name when the drawen king crumpled to the ground. The shout got stuck in his throat.

 _No. Please. He can't be. Not now. Not after everything. Please._ He ran. He ran faster than ever before. The same word repeating over and over again in his head while he did. _Please_.

"Thorin!" He screeched to halt in front of the still figure of his king. Thorin opened his eyes and blinked slowly before focusing on Bilbo.  _Thank Eru, he isn't dead. Thank Eru_. "I'm so glad that you're here." Thorin said and smiled fondly at the hobbit. Bilbo's heart skipped a beat when he heard that deep voice laced with pain. He knelt next to the wounded dwarf, ignoring the coldness of the ice and his own pain, and put a shaking hand over the wound. "Don't worry. You're going to be alright." The wound was so deep. Too deep. "God." He knew. He knew Thorin wouldn't survive. He bit back a sob. _No. Dear Eru, no_. He looked at wounded king - his One - and he knew that he knew it too.

Thorin took a deep breath and drew his eyes to his own. He never could resist Thorin's eyes. "I want us to be parted as friends." _We are. We never stopped being_. "Everything I said on that gate, I take it back, I now realize that you acted like I true friend would. I was too blind to see it. Forgive me." _I will always forgive you. Always. Please don't... You're going to be okay._ Thorin smiled at him. It was pained little thing, but it was a smile nonetheless. The hobbit tried to smile back but he could feel it dying on his lips even before trying. "Go back to your books. Go back to your home. " _My home is here. My home is here. With you_. _Why can't you see that?_ "Plant your garden. Watch it grow." He pressed his face closer to his friend's, trying to will Thorin to live by a sheer force of his will, not quite daring to press his lips on the dying - _no not dying never dying_ \- dwarf's lips. Not even now did he have the courage to do what his heart desired the most. How pathetic was that?

"If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world. But, sad or merry, I must leave it now." _No._ "Thorin, don't you dare." _No._ Thorin just looked at him, smiling one last time. "Farewell." _No_. The dwarf's head fell backwards as he took his last shaking breath and his eyes - his beautiful beautiful eyes - lost their focus. He could feel the warmth of Thorin's skin changing to the coldness of death. _No._

He couldn't.... he couldn't believe it. Not now. Maybe never. _Thorin was going to be alright. He was just... just resting._ "Just hang on, Thorin." H _e was going to be alright. He... he was... he was d- ... going to be alright._ "Help is coming. Just..." his voice broke," hang on." Bilbo let out a quiet sob. Soon tears were streaming freely down his face and pained whispers were escaping him. If someone could have heard the sounds the small hobbit made, they could have mistaken him for a dying animal. But there was no one there to hear. Just the wind, the hobbit, and his fallen king.

 

~o~

 

Bilbo was leaving. He was leaving and in his heart he knew he would never come back. Balin was telling him about the celebration they were organizing. He could almost believe that everything was alright. That if he walked into the great hall he would find Thorin and his two nephews there, two of them excitedly making plans while the third would be observing them with amused affection. They would turn around and smile at him, the younger ones calling his name to share their excitement with him. And Thorin... Thorin would smile at him with that shy and beautiful smile of his. Thorin would...

"Thorin Oakenshield will become a legend." Balin's voice brought him back to the reality with a sickening lurch. He turned to look at the old adviser, smiling painedly. "He was never that to me." He was so much more, "To me... he was... " _Everything_ "He was..." He couldn't finish his sentence. How could you describe the sense of home that came from the warmth of the camp fire, the deep blue of his eyes that were filled with kindness and love, the shine of silver on black, the smell of forest and metal forever etched on his skin? How could he explain how it all had made him feel? How could he explain something so enormous that it felt like a miracle that he had managed to keep it all contained within his small form? But the sad knowing twinkle in the dwarf's eyes made him suspect that Balin could guess at least a part of it.

He said his goodbyes to the rest of the company. He would miss them, for sure. And he was almost certain they wouldn't take up on his invitation. There was too much pain there. It was, after all, the place where all of this had started. This journey doomed to end in death and sorrow.

And then the hobbit was on his way to the Shire. Not home. His home was buried under the mountain, forever hidden from the world until the end of times, the Arkenstone loosely clasped in the strong hands crossed over his chest.

 

 

~o~

 

"Who was this person you promised your services to? Thorin Oakenshield?"

"He was..." My home. My heart. My One. "He was my friend."

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are love! <3  
> The title means Home of my heart but I could have written it wrong. If any people more fluent in Khuzdul than I am read this, let me know if I wrote it right.


End file.
